


Radio Silence

by kairos99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is silent, Claire-centric, Could Be Destiel, Could be friendship - Freeform, Dean's not happy, Episode: s12e16 Ladies Drink Free, Gen, Worried Dean Winchester, mentioned cas, prayers to cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 16:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kairos99/pseuds/kairos99
Summary: Castiel didn’t come to Claire’s rescue, but it wasn’t for lack of invitation.(or that time 3 people prayed to Castiel, and 3 people were met with deafening silence)





	Radio Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is sort of a coda to Supernatural's season 12 episode 16, 'Ladies Drink Free', because Dean, Sam and Claire all pretty much neglected to inform Cas that his kind of/sort of daughter was kind of/sort of dying, and that was sad.  
> Destiel isn't really the focus of the fic, but feel free to interpret that! Of course, it can also be interpreted as friendship, so, whatever floats your boat.  
> Please let me know what you think!  
> Enjoy!

**The First**

_Stupid Winchesters, stupid college, stupid, stupid, stupid._

Claire all but stormed down the path, furiously biting the inside of her cheek to keep the angry tears in her eyes from spilling over.

How dare he? _How dare he?_

She most _certainly_ did _not_ act like a little kid. Little kids couldn’t survive on their own, like she did. Little kids couldn’t hunt, like she did. Little kids couldn’t cry themselves to sleep every night, without making a sound, like she did.

She was a damn universe away from being a little kid.

As she walked, fury gave way to grief, and a strange sense of calm, as she contemplated her messed up childhood in the middle of a forest. It was oddly therapeutic.

That being said, she was slowly beginning to think that, maybe, a forest wasn’t the best place to be, given the nature of the nasty they were currently hunting. Actually, the more she thought about, the more she realized that the middle of a forest was probably a really, _really_ bad idea. She stopped, took a minute to look around. It was rather beautiful, with all the trees and stuff. Too bad a horrible feeling was creeping up her spine, ice settling in her stomach as every instinct she had screamed, _“RUN!”_.

Then something flew at her. She fought, drawing her knife as they spun around in a deadly dance. No matter how hard she battled, her attacker overpowered her, swiping at her with dark claws as growls mingled with her desperate gasps.

She hit the ground, shrieking as she felt something tear into her shoulder. _No, no, NO!_

And then it was gone, leaving her gasping on the ground. She steeled her nerves enough to reach back, tentatively touch the spot that burned. Her fingers came back covered in blood.

She let out a guttural sob and closed her eyes, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to even put into words what she knewhad happened.

_No, no, no, Castiel, no, please, no, please, I need you, fix this, please, please, I’ll do better, please, God, Cas, please, help, no, please, please…_

Her desperate mental prayers were pierced by thundering footsteps that shook the very ground under her. She forced her eyes open.

“Claire? Claire!” she could hear the sheer panic in Sam’s voice.

She could only whimper.

Then he was there, warm and solid and impossibly _present_.

He pulled her up a little, let her clutch at one of his arms. She gripped it desperately, sobbing into his shoulder. She could feel him brush her hair aside. He must have seen the wound, she figured, because he paused for a moment, all his muscles tensing.

And it was too much to think of, Sam Winchester leaving her there to die, or worse, killing her himself, so she didn’t (couldn’t) stop the choked sob that crawled its way up her throat as she held on tighter. Because, appearances be damned, she was worried and concerned, and, screw it, she was freaking _scared_ , and the last thing she wanted was to be left out in the cold yet again.

But then he relaxed, held her closer, one hand cradling the back of her head. She could feel his chest deflate as he let out a deep breath and ran his hand over her hair.

And then she could breathe, because he wasn’t going to leave her, and whatever this mess was, the Winchesters would take care of it.

So she let her muscles relax, and let the tears fall, and sent up another dozen prayers to her missing angel.

 

**The Second**

It hurt.

It hurt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest over and over and over again, once for each time Claire let out a pained growl.

She growled in pain a lot.

The guilt was practically eating him alive. If he had just kept his mouth shut, if he had displayed some sort of tact, if he had taken a second to see things from her perspective, because, if he was being honest, she was pretty much him at that age, all headstrong and stubborn and stupidly brave.

But no. He had been petty and mean and had dealt pretty much the lowest of low blows, striking exactly where he knew it would hurt the most. He had hesitated in following Claire, even when she stormed into a forest when they were hunting a werewolf. He had driven her away, and then hesitated, and now she was in _so much pain_ and she could be _dying_ and it was _all his fault_.

Lord, he shouldn’t even be allowed _near_ children, ever.

He found his thoughts drifting to Jimmy Novak, and Cas. Poor Jimmy, if only he had known what his decision would cost his family. He wondered if Jimmy and Amelia were watching from up there, witnessing their daughter…die. He wondered if they hated him for pushing her into storming off. Wondered if Jimmy was regretting anything.

Sam instantly shut down that train of thought down. Sure, it was all sad and horrible for the Novaks, but he would never, _ever_ , in a million years, wish away Cas. Because Cas had saved the world (countless times). Because Cas had saved his brother (again, countless times).

Cas…they hadn’t heard from him in a while. And yeah, Sam told Dean not to worry, told him that Cas was a big angel, and he could handle himself. But that was about 87.9% to prevent Dean from tearing up the country, hell, and possibly (probably) heaven, looking for his angel. If he was being honest, Sam was worried. Really worried.

Cas should be here, Sam decided. Cas would know what to say to Claire, would know what to do to ease her pain some, would know how to be there for her. Cas was what they needed, with his inherent dorkiness and his well-placed intentions and his awkward care. Cas was what Claire needed. Not Sam.

But he couldn’t find it in him to leave her.

Because he _remembered._ Remembered the pain of his own detox. Remembered the feeling of wanting to tear yourself apart, because there was something inside you that wasn’t supposed to be there. Remembered feeling like he was melting and freezing and vaporizing all at the same time. Remembered praying for it to just _end_ , one way or the other.

He wasn’t sure if the pain Claire was feeling was similar, but he guessed it must be. And he’d be damned if he let her go through that alone.

So he sat there, in silent solitude.

Sat there when Dean left, unable to watch anymore.

Sat there even though each of Claire’s growls ripped through him, hurting worse than any mortal wound ever could.

He sat there, and prayed.

_Cas, man, come on. Help her._

 

**The Third**

Dean thought he knew pain.

He had been cut and bruised and burnt. He had died more times than he could count. He had been tortured in Hell. Hell, he had been to Purgatory, and by some miracle (read: Cas), he had survived to tell the tale.

But this?

Watching this kid, who he cared more about than he would willingly admit, this kid who had been through so much shit (mostly because of him and his tendency to be involved in large cosmic plans), this kid who was smart and sarcastic and tough as nails, watching this _kid_ writhe and growl on the couch as the cure worked through her system, either fixing her, or killing her? Watching this?

This was a whole new _brand_ of torture.

Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he was back on the racks, like he was being disassembled and cut up part by part and reassembled again.

God, what if she _died_?

He couldn’t even think it. Not even for a second. If that were to happen…well, Dean wasn’t one for ultimatums, but he thought losing Claire would be the proverbial last straw.

He wouldn’t be able to recover from this.

This realization overpowered him, suffocated him until he couldn’t breathe.

Because, heaven above, he couldn’t stand here and _watch this kid die_.

So he left.

Mumbled something about getting air, ran a heavy hand down his face, gave Claire one last pained look, and left.

Outside, he lost the ability to keep it together.

He collapsed onto the curb, heaving deep breaths that just didn’t come easy. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, tugging at the strands, trying to keep the tears pricking at his eyes from falling.

“Dammit Cas,” he muttered, dropping his hands to rest on his knees, “Where the hell are you?”

Because, yes, tonight he could admit it. Tonight, with Claire possibly dying in the room behind him, he would admit it. _He needed Cas._

He needed Cas to respond to his text messages with perfectly punctuated replies, interspersed with too many emojis and the occasional meme. He needed Cas to pick up the damn phone, so that he could hear his voice say something other than that stupid voicemail prompt. He needed Cas to pop up behind him and angel-mojo the werewolf right out of Claire. _He needed Cas._

But he didn’t have Cas.

No, he didn’t have Cas, because Cas would not reply to his messages and Cas would not pick up the phone and no matter how many times he prayed, Cas simply did not pop up behind him.

A very large part of him was extremely frustrated. A very large part of him felt like screaming curses and empty threats into the sky. An even larger part of his wanted to go hunt down Cas himself so he could knock some sense into the feathered asshole.

But, he couldn’t go raging across the country looking for Cas. All he could do was pray.

And he hated it.

Praying, to him, always felt a lot like begging. And when no one answered, it felt like flat out groveling.

But tonight? With Claire battling for survival? He would fall to his goddamn knees if it meant she would be okay.

_Cas…if you’ve got your ears on, listen, Claire’s in trouble. She’s…werewolfed, and there was this cure and she got all the votes and just…she might not make it man. We need you here. We need you home. Come back. Screw Kelly and Dagon and the Big Bad for a second. She needs you here man._

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by Sam calling his name.

Dean’s heart sank. It didn’t sound good.

But he took a deep breath anyway, got to his feet and turned to the door.

_Cas, please. She needs you. We need you. I need you. Come home._

 

 


End file.
